Hey there! Thanks to all of you who read the last chapter and to those of you who've popped by to read this one. And, especially, to everyone who took the time to leave a comment! :)

Chapter 4

It was an enticing, heavenly aroma that finally drew her away from the computer screen.

Sam turned towards the irresistible aroma and found a blue mug dangling inches from her face. She smiled at the SGC logo emblazoned on it in deep black. All the senior staff at the SGC had one – they were the only mugs in existence with embedded microchips to make sure they didn't wander off-base. She knew if she turned it around, she'd find the slogan of the Jaffa resistance written on the back, along with the mottoes of the US marines and the Air Force.

She looked up and blinked as her dry, aching eyes adjusted to the distance. Then she reached up for the mug and smiled widely at its bearer. "Thanks, Daniel," she said and took a sip, closing her eyes to savour the wonderful taste – this was definitely from his private stash.

"You're welcome," Daniel answered. He motioned towards her computer screen with the mug in his hand. "How's it going?"

Sam sighed. "I wish I could tell you."

Daniel frowned. "Landry told you not to share your findings with us?"

"What? Oh, no, no, I mean the evidence, it's..." She gazed back towards the screen as she took a sip of coffee to gain some time to organize her thoughts. "It's one of the best cover-up jobs I've seen in a while and thorough, very thorough. But once I start actually looking at it, there's enough little things off about everything surrounding the incident that I know it has to be a cover-up. Except that I don't know how they could've done it. Nor do I have any idea who they could possibly be."

Daniel looked around and pulled a chair over to sit down beside her. "So what have you got?" he asked, his entire body leaned towards her attentively.

Sam grinned. It was just like old times. "Well, first of all we've got all the medical scans Doctor Lam did yesterday. We're still waiting on some of the blood tests, but everything else has come back normal."

"Well, that's good."

Sam nodded. "It eliminates the obvious cause." She paused. "Sort of."

Daniel paused and she could see the wheels in his head turning. "Because just because can't find it, doesn't mean there isn't something, only that we haven't figured out how to detect it. You're thinking it might be something new, something we haven't come across before and subsequently weren't testing for."

"It's definitely not a possibility we should ignore. I mean, we've come across some pretty strange things over the years."

Daniel snorted. "That's an understatement. The fact that we're still here is probably proof of insanity."

Sam shared a mischievous smile with him. "Probably. But which would you rather be: sane or here?"

"I'm pretty sure my already-established insanity would negate any answer I could possibly give by virtue of being a product of my irrational mind."

Sam laughed. Daniel took another drink of his coffee, looking pleased with himself.

"Okay, so at this point you're mostly sure none of us were drugged or had anything implanted into our brains," said Daniel once she'd stopped laughing.

Sam sobered. "Yes, from the evidence we've found so far, there's nothing indicating outside interference."

"But you're still sure something's not quite right."

"Mostly sure." Sam pursed her lips. The problem was that she wasn't quite sure herself how to explain everything. "I read through all your reports, and then I read through all the other witness statements. They all say exactly the same thing. Not to the letter, because everyone's speech patterns are different, but they're more or less describing exactly the same progression of events. Which is not only statistically improbable because everyone remembers things differently, but the events themselves just don't add up when you take a closer look at them."

She turned to her computer and brought up the simulations. "According to witness testimony, the crash occurred when this red Volkswagen suddenly swerved to the side, cutting into the next lane over."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Daniel's reaction. He was sipping his coffee, frowning slightly, his eyes distant. Sam waited, hoping he would fill the rest in on his own.

His eyes flicked to her after a long moment and he sighed. "No, I remember that," he said, sounding almost disappointed. "There was a loud squeal of tires and then more squeals and crashes and screaming... There was a lot of screaming. Vala, Teyla and I helped get people out of the way while Cam, John and Teal'c went to try and pull people out of the cars and to safety... I saw the damage, it must've been some crash."

Sam nodded. That was consistent with what all six of them had written in their reports. "And that was the first problem I discovered."

She hit play on the first simulation and let the roughly-drawn vehicles go through their motions, watching as they crashed against each other and little bubble people were thrown out of the way and ran over as the vehicles spun out of control and rammed onto the sidewalk. There were seven cars involved in total and one produce truck, the others managing to swerve out of the way or break in time. The truck was mostly fine except for a dented side fender, but three of the cars were smashed in the front and one from the side. A blue mini went as far as tipping over onto its side.

Daniel nodded. "That's what it looked like afterwards, yeah."

"Except that based on the approximate speed of the vehicles in question, their mass, weight and the materials they're manufactured from, and calculating in wind resistance and ground resistance..." She hit play on the second simulation. "This is what it should have looked like."

The second simulation showed a much less impressive crash. The same vehicles were involved, but this time the little bubble people weren't thrown so much as knocked over by the cars, nothing tipped over and the damage was obviously less drastic.

She waited in silence as Daniel gently reached for her mouse and then played both simulations again, his eyes glued to the screen, taking in every detail. Finally, he sat back again ran a hand across his face.

"I remember the first one," he said quietly. "I don't know what that means, but that's what the the aftermath looked like."

Sam nodded. "I know," she told him. "And the police reports agree with you. All the pictures point to the first scenario, the one you all remember seeing. The physics, however, are saying something else."

The corners of Daniel's mouth twitched. "Never argue with the physics."

Sam grinned. "That's my general rule of thumb."

She turned back to her computer and closed the simulations. Then she brought up the other videos. "There's more, though," she continued. "The CCTV cameras from Trafalgar Square were mysteriously fuzzy and nothing I or Corporal Orsen in security tried helped clear up the video, however the ones just outside the square were fine."

"Which means whatever happened caused interference with the feeds," Daniel added.

"Yep, but that's not actually my point." Sam fast-forwarded to the correct frame. "See the timestamp?"

"13:07, so that must've been less than fifteen minutes or so after we got to the pub."

Sam nodded. "And you'll notice the car that's just driving driving into the round-about?"

"The red Volkswagen."

"Yup. And when I play the video..." She hit play and watched on the grainy footage as the cars drove steadily by.

"Wait, isn't that the blue Mini Cooper? Or, no... was there another Mini Cooper we missed?"

"According to the CCTV cameras around Trafalgar Square, this is the only blue mini that had driven by the area within that time frame."

And that was really the crux of the matter, because according to the witness statements, the red Volkswagen had crashed into the mini, but the camera placed the mini two cars behind the Volkswagen.

Daniel took a deep breath. "Okay, so whoever did this was professional enough to set everything up and somehow get everyone present to believe they saw the crash happen, but didn't set it up well enough to stand up to close scrutiny."

Sam shrugged. "To be fair, if not for the bullets we wouldn't be looking any closer at this either. At least eight people died and everyone's content to believe it was a horrible accident."

Daniel's eyes cut to her. "At least?"

"The coroner's reports say all the dead died from impact wounds of one form or other. There's one that sounds suspiciously like there could've been a bullet wound, but without seeing the actual body or pictures of the body there's no way to tell for certain and they're all UK citizens we have no valid reason to request to examine the bodies. I'm still waiting for a ballistics report on the guns to confirm that they'd actually been fired and approximately how many times. If that confirms they were actually fired, then maybe the General might have a case to take to the IOA, but until then this is all we've got. Which, like I said, is still pretty damned suspicious."

Daniel sighed. "I know that everything you're saying makes sense to me, but I just... It's not even like when I was missing my memories after my descension, because there was this blank space in my mind where I knew those memories belonged. This... I can see the accident. I can see clearly what happened."

"It's more like what Nem did to us," said Sam softly, thoughtfully. "He didn't erase our memories, he overrode them with new ones to make us think you were dead."

"So basically what you're saying is that we're looking for the Men in Black," said Daniel wryly.

Sam giggled. "I thought we were the Men in Black."

Daniel snorted in amusement. "Not quite, although I do think we could pull off the look."

"Next Halloween."

"I'll let Teal'c and Vala know."

"What about Cam?"

Daniel shrugged. "We'll let him stew for a bit. He'll eventually figure out we're planning something and demand to know what it is."

Sam shook her head in amusement. "You know, you should really stop poking fun at him."

"He called my briefing boring last week."

"Colonel O'Neill would have too and you'd tell him."

Daniel blinked and then gave her a bewildered. "Of course I would have told Jack," he said slowly, as though she were missing the obvious. "Jack hates science fiction, remember?"

Sam burst out laughing.

"Hey, hey, what's this?" a voice called from the doorway. "You're not allowed to have fun on duty!"

"We're not," Daniel called back. "It's entirely in your head."

Sam rolled her chair backwards a few steps, her eyebrows rising in surprise as a widely-grinning Cameron Mitchell walked towards them, a definite bounce in his step. Teal'c and Vala followed two steps behind him, looking amused. "Hey, Cam!" she greeted him. "You look like you're doing a lot better than you were yesterday."

Cam's grin widened. "Sure am! Doctor Lam decided the injuries were looking like they'd heal nicely, so she gave Vala here the go-ahead and one handy Goa'uld healing device later, I'm just like new."

"Yes, I am amazing," Vala agreed readily. She slipped around Cam and found herself a seat on the edge of Sam's desk. "So what were you discussing that was so much fun?"

"Co-ordinated Halloween costumes for the team," said Daniel vaguely.

"Wow, that's early," said Cam after a short pause. "What were you thinking?"

Daniel just shrugged.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Men in Black," she said.

"Hey!" Daniel protested.

She looked at Daniel and shrugged. "I didn't actually agree to your plan."

Cam stared at the two of them with narrowed eyes.

"Oooh, is that the movie with the large insect alien?" Vala asked.

Daniel blinked and frowned. "I'm pretty sure there are a lot of science fiction movies that could fit that description."

"It's the one with Will Smith in a black suit and those memory-zapper pens," said Cam.

"Right," said Vala. She grinned. "It's SG-4's turn to organize the Halloween party this year, so we should rent a large black van to arrive in."

"Or a couple of nondescript black cars," Cam added.

Sam and Daniel exchanged amused looks.

"Colonel Carter, does this mean you have found reason to believe the accident in Trafalgar Square was not an accident?" Teal'c suddenly interjected.

Cam's head snapped to Teal'c. He opened his mouth to retort, then frowned and closed his mouth before turning to Sam. "Wait, is that where this Men in Black thing came from? You think the accident is a cover-up for something and we all got mind-zapped?!"

Sam shrugged. "Honestly, it's as good a theory as anything else I've got at this point," she admitted truthfully. She turned to her computer screen and brought up the two digital re-enactments. "Here, this is a video we created based on witness testimony and crime scene photos."

She played the video and then turned to watch Cam and Teal'c's reactions. Cam watched it carefully, nodding along as the cars began to pile up. Beside him, Teal'c began to frown.

"Well, I mostly just heard the crash," said Vala with a shrug.

"That's pretty much what I remember," said Cam after the video ended. Pointing towards the screen, he added: "I remember seeing that old beige two-door ram into that red car and thinking 'damn, this is going to be bad'. That was when John and I got up and ran over to help."

Daniel's head shot up at that. He frowned and looked back at the screen. "Sam, can you zoom out of this a bit so that we can see more of the square?"

"Uh, sure," she said and adjusted the magnification of the image. "Do you need me to play it again?"

"No, or actually if you could go back to just after the beginning of the accident... Thanks."

Sam did as Daniel asked, wondering what it was her friend had noticed.

A few moments passed in silence and then Daniel's hand slowly rose and pointed to a spot on the square. "This is the location of the pub we were sitting at," he said and then moved his finger in a straight line just above the screen towards the crash. "And right here, there's a fountain and a stone barrier. Cam, there's no way you could've seen that beige car from where we were sitting."

They all leaned forward.

"Daniel Jackson is correct," said Teal'c after a few moment's pause. "I, too, am finding myself perplexed, for I remember seeing the vehicles colliding as it first occurred and watching as the small blue-coloured car tipped onto its side. And yet, I am aware that had I been seated with you at the pub then this should not have been something I could have seen."

He paused again, his frown deepening. "I am also finding myself not entirely certain of my memories."

Sam looked to the Jaffa immediately. What she hadn't told Daniel yet was that she'd spoken to Atlantis yesterday and in doing so found out that Teyla had already been looking into the reports from the accident because something wasn't quite right with her recollection of it. Sam held her breath as she hoped that her own alien teammate might prove just as resistant to whatever had been done to her friends.

"In what way are you uncertain about them?" she asked, trying not to sound too eager.

His eyes flicked down to her, his expression troubled. "I seem to remember the accident, however I am also remembering... individuals who should not have been there. Except that I seem to remember that they were, indeed, there and yet I cannot place them, cannot... fit them into the accident."

"Individuals?" Daniel asked carefully. "As in people you recognized?"

Teal'c shook his head. "No, their faces were covered with masks and they are wearing cloaks with hoods."

Sam's eyes widened with surprise. "Cloaks? What sort of cloaks?"

Unexpectedly, it was Cam who answered. "Black cloaks," he said quietly.

They all looked to him. "Cam?" Sam answered. "Are you remembering something?"

Cam was silent for a long moment, looking like he was considering his answer carefully. "I don't... Not really. It's just that I suddenly remembered a moment in those dungeons two days ago... When Anise first showed up she was wearing a cloak and at first I sort of froze and I remember feeling like I want to jump out of the way. Until I realized it was grey not black and I was okay again, just confused about why the colour mattered and why my instincts had been screaming at me to run." He looked at them. "I'd completely forgotten about it until just now."

Sam considered that for a moment.

"Priors wear white robes, so it's not that," said Daniel quietly. "And the only Goa'uld we've come across who liked the dark evil overlord look were Anubis and Sokar, and both of them were before your time."

Sam turned back to the screen. "Okay, so we're sure there's a cover-up here."

Cam snorted, alleviating the tension in the room. "Well, you're the expert so you should know."

Sam turned back to grin at him. "I'm not actually responsible for most of it, but thanks for the vote of confidence." She looked back to the screen. "The biggest conundrum is the memory issue. And the speed with which it all would've taken place. From start to finish, there's only a half hour window during which everything, including whatever was being covered up could've taken place."

"Could someone have altered the timestamps on the CCTV cameras?" Daniel asked.

"Um... maybe?" Sam took a deep breath. "But, honestly, I doubt it. The accident itself is proof enough that whoever did this was in a rush to make sure the truth didn't get out. And there's realistically only so much you can alter the timestamps before something becomes obviously wrong. Someone's more likely to notice if the timestamp freezes or if it's out of sync with the other cameras beside it. In fact, a simple system's diagnostic might pick any of those things up."

Daniel nodded.

"So what now then?" Vala asked.

Sam looked down at her watch. "Now, I'm going to go get an early lunch. I'm scheduled on a video call with Atlantis to speak to Woolsley, Beckett, Sheppard and Teyla about their findings and then report to the General. Unless the Ancient scanners have managed to come up with something more, then I'm thinking I'll be dusting off the Zatark detector this afternoon."

"I just love the Zatark detector," Daniel said dryly.

"What about that memory storage gizmo we picked up on that planet I was being accused of murder on, uh, Galar?" Cam piped up.

"It's at Area 51 at the moment," Sam answered. She'd already filled out the requisition form and planned to ask General Landry for his signature when she met with him in the afternoon. "The Zatark detector should be able to confirm the memory tampering and show us exactly where the problem is, which might make it easier to focus the memory device. And since Anise is still here, she can help me with it."

"Basically, you're planning to try everything until something gives you an answer," said Daniel with a small smile on his lips. "And then a solution."

"Pretty much."

"Sounds good," said Cam. He looked around to his team. "So... lunch?"

Teal'c nodded. "That would be an acceptable plan."

And so they went to lunch.

Chicago seemed determined to live up to its nickname as the wind blew through the streets, carrying leaves, newspapers and dust as it ruffled hair and tugged at clothes.

Draco Malfoy was singularly unimpressed. Although, if he were in a more generous mood, then he would be willing to admit it wasn't the city he was quickly learning to despise so much as the pompous, condescending moron he'd been settled with as his guide. Especially as said pompous, condescending moron clearly thought he was being subtle with his derision.

If Draco heard one more sly remark about his family's unfortunate downturn in fortune, he was going to transfigure the man into a rat and leave for the nearest alley cats.

It didn't help any that American wizards didn't stick to wizarding districts, but had a tendency to walk through muggle areas of the city with nothing more than a quick wave of their wands and a Disillusionment charm. While there was certainly nothing wrong with Draco's charms, he couldn't understand the purpose of complete separation if one didn't actually live separately. Why take the risk walking through the Muggle parts of the city when it was just as easy to apparate from one section to the other?

"This is our city just as much as it is theirs," his Chicago guide had said pointedly. "We don't want nomags to know about us, but that doesn't mean we're hiding."

Except that they were hiding. The entire Wizarding World was.

Draco had bit his tongue and forced himself not to reply. His family's position and part in the Blood Wars had been well-documented by the media both in England and overseas. While his parents had managed to garner just enough influence and good will to stay out of Azkaban, the effect on the Malfoy name was considerable. It was why he was in America in the first place, after all, where the tarnish was known, but only distantly.

He could hardly afford to antagonize one of the few companies willing to do business with him, even if the man he was primarily dealing with was a complete twat.

Especially as the product they were asking Draco to invest in had quite a bit of potential. Hand-held Floo Connectors (or Hafcons, as the company's owner had called them) were a truly brilliant invention as far as he was concerned. They were shaped rather like a large pearl oyster, made to fit into the palm of a person's hand – if they had very large hands, which the owner and inventor did. A tap of the wand caused them to flip open and activated the fire spell inside. Then all one had to do was throw some floo powder into the flames and they connected directly to the floo network. The connection wasn't nearly as clear as using a fireplace and international floo calls weren't yet possible, but as an invention, Draco thought it was rather brilliant.

It would be worth the aggravation of dealing with the Ministry's Department of Communications just to get one for his own personal use.

Draco side-stepped a Muggle woman dragging along two arguing children, thankful that his guide had gone silent while they walked along the busy street. The man wasn't stupid, which made him at least somewhat tolerable as a companion – occasionally he even managed to get in a witty remark about something other than Draco's family's situation. He was half a head taller than Draco, though slighter in build with dark blond hair and bushy eyebrows above deep-set blue eyes that hinted of Eastern European descent even though his name was Arnold. Arnold Fullman, though he insisted Draco call him Arnold, a familiarity Draco had just begun to get used to over the course of his two-month travels in America and still felt wrong.

Having these strangers calling him by his first name made him feel oddly exposed, as though the lack of formality was somehow stripping a layer of protection from around him. Not that he would ever let that show.

Arnold was currently leading Draco to lunch at a restaurant he swore had the best gumbo this side of New Orleans. Draco, of course, had absolutely no idea what gumbo was and wasn't entirely certain he felt adventurous enough to find out. He'd heard stories about the Wizarding community in New Orleans.

Though as he walked through the streets of Chicago, it occurred to him that perhaps he should've been listening to the stories about the Muggle communities in America. As a pureblood he rarely associated, or came into contact, with Muggles in Europe. It simply wasn't necessary. As a Death Eater he'd seen Muggles, but not in any sense of watching them live and interact.

Those encounters were something he tried not to think of as much as possible.

Needless to say, a lot of the Muggles in America just seemed strange. There were ones who looked fairly normal. And then there were the ones with bright hair and chains, and metal sticking out of their bodies in odd places. Draco couldn't quite figure out whether the metal things were supposed to be jewelry or torture devices. Was this some sort of strange Muggle punishment. They also seemed to all be carrying small flat rectangles and either staring at them or talking into them even though the rectangles didn't seem to actually be doing anything. It was... very strange.

If he hadn't been so distracted, he might've noticed the man sooner. He had short dark hair liberally threaded with grey and small wire-rimmed glasses. The eyes behind the glasses were green and wild – terrified, angry, and not entirely sane.

"You! You think you can hide and then come and hurt me? You can't hurt me! You're real and not real and a dream, but not a dream!" he screamed at Draco while grabbing fistfulls of his deep green traveling cloak.

Draco froze, eyes wide in shock and fear both. This Muggle had somehow managed to see through his charm! He felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he glanced around and saw the other Muggles staring at them.

He swallowed down his panic and finally found his voice. "Unhand me, sir!" he demanded, grabbing at the man's hands and pushing back. "I haven't the foggiest idea who you are nor what it is you think I may have done!"

"Daddy!" a woman's voice suddenly cried out.

Draco looked up as a woman with long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail ran out of the gathered crowd. She gently put her arms around the man and began whispering frantically to him, urging him to let Draco go.

"He's just a stranger, daddy," she told him. "He's just walking by, minding his own business. He's not trying to hurt you or me or anyone else. Please, daddy, please calm down and let go of him."

Then man held on for a long while, though he'd fallen silent at the sound of his daughter's voice. Slowly, he blinked and then seemed to look up at Draco as though he were seeing him again for the first time.

"You-you're young," he whispered. He frowned, and then added, in a tone that clearly wasn't meant for Draco, "I don't know you."

"No, daddy, you don't," the daughter agreed gently and tried once again to disentangle her father's hands from Draco's cloak.

This time, she was successful. The man let go easily and let himself be pulled back. He wasn't seeing Draco anymore, his green eyes were glazed over and looked haunted. The wild anger gone, he seemed smaller than before, fragile.

Draco took a deep breath to calm himself down. He met Arnold's bewildered eyes.

"I'm so sorry about that," the daughter suddenly said. Draco blinked, startled as she addressed him.

"Yes, well, it was a bit of a surprise," said Draco, still feeling shaken by the experience.

The woman sighed. She turned to face Draco while keeping an eye on her father who now stood to the side in subdued silence.

"My father used to be a brilliant scientist," she told him. A sad smile flitted across her face. "When I was a kid, he would tell me he wanted to solve the secrets of the universe. I remember when he would get so excited about little tiny discoveries that meant nothing to almost everyone else."

"What happened?" Draco found himself asking.

She shook her head. "No one knows. Six years ago he was working on some sort of project. Top secret, couldn't tell me anything about it, only that it was fascinating and very important. And then, five years ago, something happened. One day he seemed perfectly happy, and the next he was having a mental breakdown. The doctors say the symptoms are like PTSD, but he can't remember anything that could've triggered it. It's the oddest things that trigger his episodes too." She chuckled bitterly. "But then, from what I've read that's pretty normal for PTSD. If only I knew what he'd been working on or who he'd been working for, but he still refuses to talk about it."

Suddenly, the woman seemed to remember herself. Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Here I am just talking away. Are you alright?"

Draco blinked. "Yes, yes I'm fine."

"Again, I'm so sorry about my father. I should really get him home now."

Draco nodded and the woman hurried to her father's side and gently took his arm. She flashed Draco one, last apologetic smile before leading him away.

For his part, Draco took a deep breath and began walking, recasting the Disillusionment charm as he went.

"What in the world was that about?" Arnold asked.

"I have no idea," Draco answered truthfully as they continued towards their destination. "Something about her father having a mental break or PTSD, whatever that stands for."

"Never heard of it. Must be a nomag thing."

"Most likely."

Arnold paused, his lips thinning for a moment. "Listen, you don't think that had anything to do with you, uh, family's former proclivities."

Draco stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and glared at him. "Death Eaters wore black robes, black hoods and white masks," he said coldly, having finally had enough of the constant reminders from this particular wizard. "And, while my family's past allegiances cast a very dark shadow on us, I'd like to remind you that I am very well aware of the difficulties your company has had in breaking into your own market thanks to the larger, privately owned Floo Network Providers. The Ministry operated network in England is a potentially less problematic venture, however at the moment you still need the connections my family has to pull that off."

Draco paused, noting with satisfaction at the way Arnold had stilled, his eyes suddenly sharper and eyeing him with more interest than before.

"You need me, Arnold, just as much as I need you. Do me the courtesy of not forgetting that."

Arnold stood there watching him for a few moments. And then his lips widened into a sharp smile.

"Well, well, and here I thought I had you pegged as just another rich daddy's boy," he said darkly. "It seems you not only have a spine, but also a brain beneath that blond hair." And then, just as Draco was wondering where this was all going, the American's face brightened into a grin. "I genuinely look forward to doing business with you, Draco."

Draco blinked at him, realization coming to him quite suddenly. His jaw dropped. "Wait, you were being a complete twat as a test?!"

Arnold burst into laughter. "The best way to figure out what kind of person someone is, is to needle them until they snap. You can tell a lot about a man, by the way he acts when he's frustrated."

"I'll have to remember that one," said Draco dryly.

Arnold threw a hand over Draco's shoulders and grinned. "You do that. But in the meantime, I think I owe you some gumbo."

Draco couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. It was possible that his trip to America hadn't been a waste of time after all. And perhaps, on second glance, Chicago was actually a rather nice city even with all the Muggles.

He still wasn't sure about the gumbo.

Hermione took a deep breath and knocked on the door of what she privately referred to as the Dark Office. She called it this partially out of a sense of amused irony. In reality, the office's inhabitant's favourite colour seemed to be yellow – bright, canary yellow. She also seemed to like things that sparkled or were covered in feathers. It made her office look like it had been made out of a transfigured bird. With sparkles.

And yet, Celest Willowbe was a plump, middle-aged witch with a perpetual frown on her face and lips made twice their usual size by a generous over-application of lipstick. Hermione had yet to see her smile. Assuming she could even do so without cracking said lipstick.

The door popped open.

"Come in!" came from inside the office.

Straightening her shoulders and smoothing her face into as close to as neutral expression as she could manage, Hermione stepped into the office. In her hand she held a single scroll – her own written report – while a stack of field report scrolls floated into the office behind her. Celest Willowbe eyed both her and the scrolls with her usual scowl.

"Miss Granger," she said, her voice sweet as honey-coated barbed wire. "What brings you to my office this afternoon?"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Willowbe," said Hermione, trying not to let it show just how much her voice set her on edge. "As you know, I've been going through old auror field reports filed during the Second Blood War."

"Naturally. I gave you the assignment."

"Yes, of course." Hermione handed the woman the scroll she was holding. "As I read through the reports, I came across a rather alarming discovery. I've written it all up into that report."

Celest Willowbe took the scroll looking vaguely interested. Hermione took that as a positive sign and plowed on.

"At first there wasn't anything concrete enough in the reports to paint any sort of picture, but then I came across one about a Muggle archeaological dig at Glastonbury Tor, which as you know is the legendary final resting place of Merlin."

The older witch rolled her eyes. "Miss Granger, Muggles are always digging around sites like that. However, as they are unable to detect the magic, they never find anything. Glastonbury Tor, in particular, is so seeped in magic and covered in such powerful charms that not even the best charm-breakers have managed to get past them. And given the stories of treasures buried in the mound along with Merlin, more than a few have tried over the years."

"Yes, I understand that, Mrs Willowbe, however that does not explain the presence of the Muggle military."

Celeste Willowbe frowned and Hermione crowed inwardly.

"More to the point, the American Muggle Military. The field reports have been written by several different aurors and Muggle observers, so it took me a while to realize the connection because sometimes they used the term 'American Military', or 'Yankee soldiers', or the auror in question wasn't sure and called them just 'Muggle Yanks in uniforms' or, in one case, 'Americans, possibly soldiers or something official-like'. But either way, there seems to be a curious military presence in many of these reports and not just at Glastonbury Tor, but even in reports from the Muggle Prime Minister's Office."

There was a soft snort. "The Muggle Prime Minister does, of course, deal with the American military all the time. That's hardly proof of anything, Miss Granger."

Hermione frowned. "I'm not sure it works quite that way, Mrs Willowbe."

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Hermione, who quickly decided it wasn't worth arguing the point.

"Either way, I know whatever's going on is related, because a few of the auror observers caught the names of a few of the Muggles involved. Not only are several names repeated throughout the reports, but two of those names also appear in the report on last week's Death Eater attack in Trafalgar Square in Muggle London. A third man wasn't identified by name, but his description matches that of a Mister Murry, who was present at Glastonbury Tor as well as seen meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister."

"If it's to do with the Muggle Prime Minister's Office then I'm sure the Muggle Affairs and Auror departments have the situation well in hand," Mrs Willowbe dismissed her concerns. "However, what I am more interested to know is how you managed to come by the report on last week's Death Eater attack."

Hermione frowned. "I got the scroll in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As a senior apprentice, it's within my access level to view."

"Oh I am well aware of your access level, Miss Granger. However, as you felt the need to remind me earlier, your assigned task was to go through, catalog, and then subsequently archive auror field reports from the Second Blood War. Last week was not during the Second Blood War, was it, Miss Granger?"

"No, of course it wasn't. I was only being thorough. Harry and Ron had been in the auror team dispatched to the scene–"

"–Ah yes, the famous Harry Potter," said Mrs Willowbe with obvious distaste. "Tell me, does your friendship with the great hero of the Wizarding World have any actual relevance to your report?"

Hermione grit her teeth. "No, of course not. I only meant that it was because of them that I knew about the American Muggle Military's presence in Trafalgar Square! And, the other aurors on the scene were able to confirm two names that I found in other reports: Doctor Daniel Jackson and Colonel Cameron Mitchell. Well, one of the field reports mentioned a Doctor Jencksun, but I'm fairly certain that was mostly their atrocious handwriting."

"That's a very interesting story indeed," said Mrs Willowbe. "However, I would've thought that your assigned project had given you enough to do without going off in search of more exciting things." She sent Hermione a pointed look. "You haven't finished, have you?"

Hermione thought of the pile of unread scrolls waiting for her in her office. "No, not yet."

"Well then, I think you have plenty of work ahead of you, don't you?"

"But you will read the report?" Hermione insisted. "It could be incredibly important."

"There are many things that could be incredibly important," said the elder witch dismissively. "It's been years and nothing has happened, I think that alone should be proof that whatever the Muggles were looking for, they didn't find it. If they had, then surely we would've heard of it by now. Miss Granger, here at the Ministry of Magic we don't offer glamorous adventure or excitement. If that's what you're looking for, then I suggest joining the auror department."

Celeste Willowbe's lips twisted into a nasty, almost-smile and her eyes flashed maliciously. "Although I hear that even there certain, shall we say, glory-toting elements are being stamped down on and put in their place. Quite rightly too."

Hermione knew she was glaring at her supervisor quite openly now, but she managed to bite her tongue and keep the angry outburst she itched to make from coming out. No matter what, she refused to give this horrible yellow woman the satisfaction of winning.

"I'm not interested in becoming an auror," she said, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could. What she really wanted to do was scream: 'It's not the job I hate, it's you!' She didn't.

"Then if that's all you had, I suggest you get back to your assignment."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Very well, I apologize for wasting your time," she said and turned on her heel.

She didn't stop until she was back inside her office. Once there, she carefully closed the door and cast a silencing charm. Then she screamed in frustration.